


Once upon an October

by animeflower317



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Demons, Gen, Horror, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Nightmares, Or Is It?, Psychological Horror, Puppets, Sharing a Body, Walks In The Woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 00:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animeflower317/pseuds/animeflower317
Summary: All he knows is that he's running. R̔ͦ̓͐̃̋̃҉̯̫̥͎͚͚ū̸̷̼̤͓͓̠̝͉̎ͣ̆͊̑ͬ̅̈͝ͅn̶̛̖̖̟̖̝̝̱͈̂̈̓͑n̦͎͓̪̻̜̙̊̓́į͓̠̘̩̰̔ͮͭ̈ͅn̜̳̤̱̰̲͉͈̔͂ͤ̿ͥͨ͠g̼̮̺͙̩̞͒ͣ͋̉̄͠ ̦̜̖̗͓ͥ̎ͣ̓̚t̖̗͓̠̆̎̋̂̓ͬ̀̔ͣw͚̰͕̮̎ͧ̈̋̍͂͆̈́̂a̷̓̊͂҉̲͍r̙̯̙̼̗͔͈ͤ̋̍͊̓́͑d̸̵͖̦̖ͨͪ̉͘s̨͎̗̭̞̬͓͌̉̂̈́̉ͫͣ ̵̥̣͉̭̰ͬ̅͗̏h̰̣̘̳̬͔̀̈́̋͋ͨͨͮͅi͕̻̰̠̝͍ͪ̈́̍m̩͕͕̫̙̥̻̰ͨͨͭͭ̔ͫ͊̚





	Once upon an October

**Author's Note:**

> MUAHAHAHA. A scary story for Anti month! Enjoy!!!!!

Running. Running through the woods as fast as his legs can carry him. Briars tearing at his skin and tangling in his lime colored hair. He doesn’t care anymore. All he cares about is finding HER. The woman he used to love.  
He used to be alright. He used to be a dad. Until his entire world fell apart. She stopped loving him. Then the divorce. A blow he never recovered from. That day he put a gun to his head and shot. He opened his eyes a few days later. Alive, by some divine miracle.  
He has to find her. For them. Not for himself. Unless he finds the demon that took her. The demon with black eyes and blood running down his neck. The demon that put his best friend in a coma for two years. The demon that is also his brother.  
Something hot and sticky runs down the side of his face and down his tattered shirt. Blood. Staining his skin crimson. A cut runs across the scar on his temple. Maybe it would be a bad omen...if he believed in that.  


It feels like he’s been running forever. He’s tired and the cuts on his skin sting. He’s thirsty too. Any water would feel so good running down his throat. Maybe he should stop. NO! That’s how he knows the demon is close. The demon is pushing poisonous thoughts into his head as if there weren’t so many there already. The white lines across his arms prove it.  
There can be no stopping. This meeting has been clandestine ever since the demon showed up at his house. The demon with his friends face. Anger turns his blood to lava. That’s good. More fuel for running. He can feel static in the air. It’s dangerous to get this close.  
Again, he doesn’t care. Her ring jumps up and down in his pocket in rhythm with his movements. It’s the ring he gave her when she said she loved him. Funny. Didn’t she throw this in the lake? The static is so heavy it almost chokes him. The air itself is turning against him.The thoughts come faster and stronger.They tell him to finish what he started that day. Maybe he will, but not now. Now he’s running through poison.  


There’s a clearing ahead. He knows the demon is there. He steels himself for the fight. He has to finish this. Now. His stomach drops. If he’s not ready, he could end up becoming that demon’s puppet. Just like his brother. He will not be controlled.. He will not become a puppet. He has to fight with his all.  
Leaves crunch under his boots as he reaches the clearing. Laughter echos all around him. The demon is right in front of him. Looking at him. With his friend’s ocean blue eyes. He hates the demon. He hates his brother. All of the stolen blue drains out of those eyes. Those eyes that are now black like obsidian. The blood dripping from the demon’s neck darkens.  
Strings wrap around his joints, digging into already raw flesh. It hurts, but he has to fight. He pulls with all his might, and strings start snapping under the pressure. The demon growls in annoyance. The remaining strings cut deep and start to draw blood. He can’t give up, no matter what happens. No matter how much pain he’s in.  
The demon is getting angry now. He can tell by the thoughts being crammed forcefully into his head. It hurts. Tears roll down his face, leaving clean streaks in the blood and grime. He probably looks like a demon too. Any kid who saw him now would agree. He’s managed to almost free himself from those cursed strings. He smirks as more snap.  
His nose is bleeding now. Probably from all of this effort. Now blood and dirt and blood almost cover him completely. His blue eyes haven't lost their shine. He feels proud of that. He feels wild and unbreakable. He feels like he can’t lose.  


If he could just trap the demon, he could force it to talk. So he lashes out with his own power. It’s not really magic, but it works. It’s not weak anymore. He trained it. He’s proud of that. He’s not a weakling like the demon said anymore. Tendrils of power start to climb the demon’s legs and waist. Maybe he should use this power more. He should use it for happier things.  
The demon growls in anger now. Good. He knows he can win now. He knows he’s getting cocky, but how exactly can he lose? There are only three strings now. He laughs hysterically. He feels invincible, but he knows it’s just adrenaline. He has to focus. His head is starting to hurt now, and his vision is getting blurry.  
Then the worst sound in the entire universe reaches his ears. Church bells that toll twelve times. A new day. It’s October first. The start of the demon’s month. NO! The demon smirks and giggles. The tide of the war has changed to favor his enemy. More strings wrap around him. Now one cuts into his throat, choking him.  
He claws at the string as best he can with both arms restrained. His blue eyes widen as the air is forcibly ripped from him. The thoughts in his mind become a monster all their own. The word “puppet” burns into him like acid. Everything hurts like torture. The demon cups his face and smiles. The demon laughs. He can barely breathe now. Static starts to numb his brain. He can’t think straight anymore.  
The string around his throat mercifully loosens to allow breath. He coughs and gasps as air comes rushing back. The demon runs a hand through his hair. It’s...calming. He can’t focus anymore, and the hand running through his hair is so warm and relaxing. He just wants to fade and let someone else take control. He’s so tired.  


NO! He realizes what’s happening. A spark of rebellion ignites in his bones. He can’t let this happen! So he bites down on the demon’s arm and doesn’t let go. He latches on. The demon shrieks and kicks him off. The taste of the demon’s blood and his own mix in his mouth. The demon kicks his head, and suddenly he feels so tired. He can’t keep his eyes open. So he gives in.  
Beeping echos in his ears as he shoots up in bed. In bed? His blanket is tangled around him. As he looks around, he finds what’s making that infernal beeping noise. An alarm clock. His alarm clock flashing seven:forty five am. He can smell bacon. It’s his room. It’s his radio blasting “My Way” by Frank Sinatra. A book falls off his chest. He picks it up. “Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark” by Alvin Schwartz.  
So it was all a dream then? He breathes a sigh of relief So his mind made that up? He shakes his head. He pays a mantra of “it was all a dream” plays in his head as he gets out of bed. He’s so glad it wasn’t real.He stops the alarm clock’s beeping. His brother yells for him from the other room. He smiles. He rips off his shirt, which was drenched with sweat. That really was scary. He’s happy. So relieved too.  
Until he notices the thing in his pocket. A small round metal thing. A ring. Her ring. Now he’s not so sure it was a dream.


End file.
